


forbidden love

by nezumiprefersdanielleovershakespeare



Category: No. 6 (Anime & Manga), No. 6 - All Media Types, No. 6 - Asano Atsuko
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-11-17 11:08:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11274213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nezumiprefersdanielleovershakespeare/pseuds/nezumiprefersdanielleovershakespeare
Summary: In a dystopian society where being in love is against the law, Nezumi and Shion have to hide their feelings from each other and the rest of the world.Preview:“I’m sorry. Was I too harsh?”Shion looked away from the grey and stared instead at his tea, which steamed lightly between him and Nezumi. He cupped his palms around the mug and wondered, not for the first time, if Nezumi’s skin felt as warm, if the kiss of steam on his cheeks would be equal to the feeling of Nezumi’s breath against his lips…Nezumi sighed, shaking Shion from his forbidden thoughts. “I guess I was, you look pale. Look, I don’t want to be mean, but the last thing I need is you running off and falling in love and getting yourself locked up. You know simple bail won’t get you out. You’re locked up in there forever, Shion.”Shion glanced up.“They see love as a curse. Once you’ve got it, you can’t shake it, so if they catch someone who’s been infected, they’ll never let them go.”“What do you see love as, Nezumi?”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I originally wrote and posted this fic in July, 2013, and I'll be reposting it one chapter every day (even though clearly it's already completed). 
> 
> I'm reposting some of my old fics from the many accounts I previously deleted over the past few years, so if you're familiar with my fics and want to request that I repost a certain old fave, feel free to message me at my tumblr: http://coolasamackerel.tumblr.com or comment on this post: http://coolasamackerel.tumblr.com/post/160488980276/danielles-nezushifree-fics and I'll be happy to consider reposting it! For both my new readers and my old guys, hope you enjoy the fic!! :D

Shion came home from the market shaken.

            He tried to compose himself from the scene he’d witnessed on the walk home, but his efforts were weak, and he knew as he opened the door with trembling fingers that Nezumi would see right through him.

            He only hoped he was wrong.

            “I had a system, you know,” Nezumi started, the moment Shion opened the door. “You may think I was disorganized, but there was a reason to the randomness. And now – now I cannot find anything. Damn your tidying. You’ve ruined everything, I’ll have you know.”

            Shion closed the door gently behind him. Maybe, if he made it to the kitchen before Nezumi – who was throwing books off one of the bookshelves – could catch a good look at his face –

            “Hey, what’s wrong with you?”

            Shion exhaled in defeat. He shrugged, hoisting the bag of food higher in his arms so that a part of it covered his face. “Nothing.”

            “You’re lying.”

            “Really. I just feel, um, guilty, for messing up your book system – ”

            Shion felt a tug on the grocery bag, and fought for a pointless minute before Nezumi had taken it from him. Now Shion was left with nothing to shield his face, which Nezumi was peering quite intently into.

            “Ah, I see. Another arrest.”

            _“No,”_ Shion lied stubbornly. He hated how Nezumi didn’t even bother to offer his guess as a question – no, the man was so sure he knew everything. It mattered not that he was completely correct.

            Nezumi sighed and turned, and Shion followed him slowly into the kitchen. “I don’t know why these things bother you so much,” he said, over his shoulder. “You have to stop getting so shaken up.”

            Shion wrapped his fingers into fists by his sides. “I’m not shaken up.”

            “You are. Sit, have some tea, it’ll make you stop shaking.”

            “I’m _not_ shak – ”

            “You _are._ Now quit lying, it irks me.”

            Shion slammed himself onto a stool, resting his fists on the counter and concentrating on slowly letting them lay flat against the smooth surface. “I just – I don’t understand. They weren’t even kissing, but the police still swooped down on them in seconds. It’s not right!”

            “What did they do?”

            “Nothing! They just – I mean, okay, so he tucked a few strands of her hair behind her ear – They were in her _eyes!_ It could have been a completely platonic gesture!”

            “But it wasn’t,” Nezumi said calmly, setting a mug of tea in front of Shion and leaning across the counter from him, his expression patient but firm. “You know that, and so did the police. They can tell in a glance – they’re trained for that.”

            “Yeah, but – So what? Even if it’s not nothing, what gives them the right – ”

            “Oh, Shion, don’t start this again – ”

            “No! You know this is wrong, Nezumi! For police to arrest anyone who falls under a natural bodily reaction – that’s what love is, you know. It’s natural! It’s a chemical response of the brain, and it’s not fair, it’s not right to have to suppress it! I can’t understand how – ”

            “Shion!” Nezumi snapped, and Shion fell silent, his breath catching at the sudden anger in Nezumi’s expression. “You’re smart, so I know you can understand. I’ve explained this to you many times, try to use that brain of yours. What is there not to understand about West Block’s conditions? There’s simply not enough here, Shion – not enough food, not enough water, not enough money, not enough jobs, not enough anything to sustain any more people. Love leads to relationships, relationships lead to families. There’s no room for more children here.”

            “But – ”

            “But nothing. You cringe at every homeless child you see, you want to save them all – but aren’t you a hypocrite if you approve of a practice that will only bring more starving, homeless children into this hell hole?”

            “It’s not a hell hole anymore! And there are things like child limits – ”

            Nezumi shook his head, dismissive. “You know those things never work. No, they have to cut it off from the source. No love means less sex means less children means more food. It’s simple.”

            “It’s _wrong,”_ Shion corrected, feeling hot. He hated how Nezumi pretended the anti-love law made sense, that it was _simple._ There was nothing _simple_ in suppressing this complex emotion, in acting as though it didn’t exist.

            This, Shion knew first hand.

            “No. _Wrong_ is allowing there to be more starving kids on the street. I’ve been there, Shion. It’s not easy to keep yourself alive.”

            “I’m not saying I want kids to starve! But there are other ways for the government to handle poverty than by banning the one thing people have to live for! Instead of spending so much time and money training police to sniff out any ounce of affection in the simplest of gestures, why don’t they use that money to build schools and shelters and create jobs for civilians and – ”

            Nezumi held out a hand, stopping Shion’s rant. “Shion, Shion, stop. How many times have you told me these things? I know how you feel, but that’s not going to fix anything. If you feel these things, why don’t you do something about it? Otherwise, what’s the point in getting worked up? It’s pointless.”

            Shion grit his teeth. He felt more than just anger towards West Block’s system. But his other feelings – no, he couldn’t act on those. If he did, he too would be jailed, and maybe Nezumi too.

            Did that make those feelings pointless as well?

            No, this, Shion would not believe. He may never be allowed to act on them, to speak them or let them out of their locked box deep in his chest where they beat with the pulse of his heart, but his feelings would not be pointless. He knew this as surely as he knew he would have them as long as the man he felt them for looked at him in such a way with his gentle grey gaze.

            “I’m sorry. Was I too harsh?”

            Shion looked away from the grey and stared instead at his tea, which steamed lightly between him and Nezumi. He cupped his palms around the mug and wondered, not for the first time, if Nezumi’s skin felt as warm, if the kiss of steam on his cheeks would be equal to the feeling of Nezumi’s breath against his lips…

            Nezumi sighed, shaking Shion from his forbidden thoughts. “I guess I was, you look pale. Look, I don’t want to be mean, but the last thing I need is you running off and falling in love and getting yourself locked up. You know simple bail won’t get you out. You’re locked up in there forever, Shion.”

            Shion glanced up.

            “They see love as a curse. Once you’ve got it, you can’t shake it, so if they catch someone who’s been infected, they’ll never let them go.”

            “What do you see love as, Nezumi?” Shion asked, before he could stop himself. He felt his cheeks burning, but hoped Nezumi would just think it was from the steam from his tea.

            Nezumi’s expression flickered, but for so momentary a second Shion was sure his imagination was working up. “It doesn’t matter what I think,” he said simply, then turned away. “I’m going to shower. I want that mug to be empty by the time I come out, you got that?”

            Nezumi walked past him to exit the kitchen, and Shion imagined how it would feel if Nezumi had outstretched a hand and ruffled it through his hair as he walked away. Surely, that simple touch would have warmed him up much more effectively than any cup of tea.

            Shion sighed. He knew he needed to stop with these thoughts. Maybe he couldn’t eradicate them, but he had to at least try and stop his imagination from continuously running wild. His daydreaming would get him in nothing but trouble – Nezumi picked up on everything, and it was only a matter of time before he saw the signs of this “curse” in Shion’s own expression.

            Shion tried not to let himself wonder what Nezumi’s reaction would be. He highly doubted the man would report him to authorities as all civilians in West Block were instructed on the first sign of lovesickness, but that wasn’t the worst scenario Shion could imagine.

            When it came to Nezumi, Shion did not care about the law, about the police, about going to jail for the rest of his life. He did not care that the love he felt made him a criminal, that if anyone knew how he felt, he’d be seen as sick or ill, diseased and contaminated.

            He only cared not to be separated from Nezumi. The man didn’t even need to reciprocate his feelings, he only needed to stay by his side, as the feeling Shion could not possibly eradicate from his body and mind and soul no matter how hard he tried would not let him live in peace without Nezumi.

            But as Shion knew, these thoughts hardly mattered. No one, especially not Nezumi, would ever know of his feelings, not if he wanted to keep Nezumi safe. He knew of Nezumi’s past, and was completely aware that Nezumi had struggled to get where he was; there was no way Shion was going to put his freedom in danger. The police only apprehended those who felt love, but those who were the target of love underwent strong scrutiny, and if there was a chance that Nezumi felt a fraction of what Shion did, Shion refused to let his own normally transparent feelings get the much subtler Nezumi locked up for life.

            Shion was only roused from his thoughts as he heard the shower turn off, and he quickly downed his tea, almost choking. He had showered that morning, and changed into his pajamas before Nezumi emerged from the bathroom, his hair down and soaking into the shoulders of his white t-shirt.

            Shion carefully stepped around him and brushed his teeth, trying not to think of the strip of pale skin he’d caught when Nezumi had come out of the bathroom, still pulling on his shirt. When he himself came out of the bathroom, Nezumi was splayed across the bed, a book in his hand.

            “Seriously? Must we go through this every night?”

            “Don’t talk, I’m reading.”

            Shion sighed, but his exasperation was only for show. He would let Nezumi take the bed every night, if he didn’t think it’d arouse suspicion in the man. “You got the bed last night. It’s my turn.”

            “I can’t hear you over the text of great literature.”

            Shion knew he shouldn’t – touching was bad, touching was outlined in the warning pamphlets as a risk, touching shouldn’t be done if there was a chance for affection, touching was… – but he couldn’t help himself. It was an innocent touch, after all. Especially since Nezumi felt nothing back – what could be the harm?

            He ignored the fact that his hands had started sweating, went to the side of the bed, and jumped over Nezumi onto the strip of empty mattress beside him, ignoring Nezumi’s protests, and promptly rolled the man off the bed. His palms against the thin fabric of Nezumi’s t-shirt scorched hot, and he relished the feel of heat from Nezumi’s body.

            “You asshole!” Nezumi shouted, from where he had landed in a heap by the floor of the bed.

            “ _You_ get the couch tonight. Don’t try to deny it, you know I had the couch last night,” Shion replied simply, pressing his palms into the backs of his legs where Nezumi couldn’t see. He wanted to feel the warmth on his body, the small warmth that was left on his skin.

            “You little shit…”

            Shion thought nothing of Nezumi’s growl. They fought nearly every other night – whenever it was Shion’s turn for the bed, the other man conveniently forgot. They switched nightly, as even though the bed was large enough to fit both men comfortably, that was obviously not an option. Not with the random nightly raids performed by the police on houses with more than one occupant. With nightly raids, no questions were asked – if two people were in the same bed, it mattered not if they were related, sworn to chastity, or one ill and the other keeping their body warm on a cold night – all were apprehended immediately upon sight. The raids only happened about once a month, but no one ever knew when they would occur, and both Shion and Nezumi preferred an aching back from the weak cushions every other night than a chance at being caught in the same bed and thrown in jail for life.

            Well, Shion accepted this. And Nezumi never gave up on his quest to always have the bed.

            And though they’d had this argument more times than Shion could count, Shion had never pushed Nezumi off the bed. He tried not to touch the other man whenever he could avoid it, but after their conversation, he must have been feeling rebellious or extra anti-establishment – either that, or his desire to touch Nezumi had reached a point he couldn’t control.

            No matter the reason, Nezumi had ended up on the floor, and that wasn’t a common occurrence. And then, following that, _“You little shit…”_ even more firsts were to come.

            “Agh!” Shion grunted as the wind was unexpectedly knocked out of him.

            “You think you can attack me without consequence?” came a hiss in Shion’s ear as Shion found himself on his back completely immobile due to a light but forceful weight on his chest.

            Nezumi. Nezumi was on his chest, Nezumi was pinning him to the bed, Nezumi was touching him –

            _Bang! Bang! Bang! CRASH!_

_“Random Night Raid, get off the bed and put your hands in the air, both of you! Now!”_

Shock filled Shion like ice, rendering him immobile even after Nezumi slid off him with a muttered curse.

            “You too, snake boy! Get up! Let’s go – hands up, you! Station, this is Lee. Yeah, I’ve got two more lovebirds. I’m bringing them in – Hey, I said hands up!”

            “Listen, you’ve got it wrong – ” Nezumi started, but a sharp _crack!_ cut him off.

            Shion sat up, then, to see the police officer hitting the door with a black metal rod.

            “I’m not in mood for another bullshit story. You know you two are the third diseased pair we’ve caught tonight? We’re gonna have to up these raids, you filthy rats are spreading your disease like fire, aren’t you?”

            “We’re not – ”

            _“Shut it!_ And you, why haven’t you gotten up yet?”

            Shion scrambled off the bed, instinctively going to Nezumi’s side before he felt a hand constrict his arm.

            “Not so fast, you’re not going near him again. Both of you are going to be locked up in _very_ separate cells, you got that?”

            “Hey, don’t touch him – Oomph!”

            Shion would have cried out as another police officer tackled Nezumi when he’d reached out to Shion, but his mouth was being stuffed with cloth, and all he could do was watch Nezumi and the officer struggling on the ground.

            The struggle only ended when the officer who’d gagged – and then cuffed – Shion let go of him only to bring his metal rod hard on Nezumi’s ribs.

            Nezumi moaned and went limp, and Shion cut the skin of his wrists against the handcuffs trying to pull them free.

            “That’s what I thought. Cuff him, let’s get one more house and be done for the night, I’m starving.”

            Shion struggled as much as he could against the shoves of his police officer, but went limp himself upon receiving his own blow from the black rod. The pain was sharper than he’d expected, and his knees buckled. He was sure his ribs were bruised at the least, and his worry only grew for Nezumi, whom he knew had been hit with much more force.

            “Separate police cars for these two. And whack the dark-haired guy again, I don’t like the look of him.”

            Shion clenched his teeth hard around his gag, wishing selfishly that they had gagged Nezumi as well. At least then, he wouldn’t have had to hear his second, weaker moan following a loud thud.

            “The other cars are full from the previous raids.”

            “Shit. Fine, put them together but _watch them._ You know what the infected are like. Hit them if they so much as move a muscle. Hit them if they look as though they’re _thinking_ of moving a muscle!”

            Shion didn’t protest as he was unceremoniously shoved into the backseat of a cop car. He turned towards the opposite door, wincing as he heard the small scuffle outside it ended by another thud and a low stream of curses from a voice he knew as well as his own, though now it seemed uncharacteristically broken and raw.

            Nezumi was thrown in the car beside him a few seconds later, doubled over. He didn’t move until the door was slammed on him, and only then did he shift his arm upward so that the shoulder of his t-shirt grazed his mouth.

            Shion noticed that the shirt left his face stained with blood. They’d hit his face, they’d cut him.

            The cop got in the front seat just as Shion began seeing red. He felt himself pulsating on the seat, feeling hot and restless, his heart pounding faster than ever before. He hated that officer. He wanted to take his metal rod and beat him senseless, beat him till he bled every last drop of his pathetic blood –

            “Stop yanking your wrists like that, you’re cutting yourself on the cuffs – ”

            “No talking back there!” the officer’s bark cut through Nezumi’s quiet voice, and the man fell silent again.

            At the last house to be raided that night, the cop stopped the car with a hissed warning at Shion and Nezumi. He got out only to open the door on Nezumi’s side a moment later, socking him in the stomach with his rod again – _“In case you filthy lovebirds don’t take verbal warnings”_ – before slamming the door on them.

            Nezumi, who had doubled over, straightened up almost immediately and leant towards Shion.

            “Lean closer to me,” he whispered in his cracked voice, and Shion did as he was told, trying not to stare at the gash on Nezumi’s lip. The metallic stench of Nezumi’s blood was slowly filling the car, and Shion felt dizzy.

            Nezumi opened his mouth as he leaned towards Shion, and for a crazy second, Shion thought the other man was going to kiss him until he felt the cloth he’d been gagged with pulling from his lips. Shion pulled back, realizing what Nezumi was doing, and then his mouth was free.

            Nezumi had the cloth between his teeth and let it fall on the seat between them.

            “Nezumi, I’m so sorry, this is my fault, I – ”

            “What are you talking about? This isn’t your fault, listen, Shion – ”

            “No! You listen, because if this is going to happen anyway, then…” Shion swallowed, staring at the blood dripping down Nezumi’s broken lip. The man was breathing loudly, his breaths shallow and quick, and Shion wondered if the officer had broken something in him.

            “Shion, you don’t look okay, you don’t look like yourself – ”

            “I’m fine,” Shion murmured, forcing himself to concentrate on the man in front of him and not the fire pumping through him. “Nezumi, this is my fault because even if they hadn’t found us tonight I would have messed up somehow, I know it.”

            “What are you talking about?”

            “Nezumi, I – ”

            “Shion, there’s not much time, so permit me to interrupt your nonsense. This is _not_ your fault. I was the one who jumped on top of you. I was the one who couldn’t resist…Look, it doesn’t matter, what matters is that I – ”

            Nezumi froze, and Shion too heard the footsteps. He opened his mouth to speak, to finally confess, but Nezumi was quicker.

            “You asked me what I saw love as. I don’t see it as a curse, Shion. The way – the way I feel about you, that’s not a curse.”

            Shion’s words caught in his throat. The police officer was right outside the car again. Shion could hear his keys jangling, his muffled cursing as he searched for the right one.

            “I will get us out of here.”

            The door opened. “Hey, why is his gag out?”

            “Shion, I promise – ”

            “No talking! That’s it, we’re switching you and another prisoner. Get out – ”

            “Nezumi!” Shion shouted, as the officer came around the side of the car, grabbed the collar of Nezumi’s t-shirt, and began to drag him out.

            Nezumi struggled, even as the officer let go of him to grab his metal rod.

            “That’s it, you son of a bitch, you asked for it – ”

            “No, stop!” Shion yelled, but it was pointless, it was all pointless; Nezumi was being dragged out, they would never see each other again –

            “Shion, I promise,” Nezumi said, his whisper suddenly in Shion’s ear, drowning out the shocked yells of the officer, his warm hand grasping Shion’s own collar for only a moment – _he’d unlocked his handcuffs!_ – _“Reunion will come.”_

_*_


	2. Chapter 2

The grey walls were beginning to feel like home.

            The clink of the keys like wind chimes from a breeze Shion hadn’t felt in months. The mattress so hard it was almost as if it was custom-made to work out the kinks in Shion’s back he hadn’t even known he’d had. The small window in the corner let in almost enough sun so that Shion could feel some warmth on a good day, and the concrete floor could be as comfortable as a sofa, if Shion used his imagination.

            Even the bars had a friendly feel, locking him in each and every night.

            Shion made marks on the wall. He was carving in the sixty-seventh mark when he heard the name he whispered every night before he went to sleep, scared that he’d forget it, that they’d cleanse it out of him like they promised they would.

            When there had been twenty marks on the wall, Shion still scoffed at the thought of being “cured.” At thirty marks, he still had dreams of Nezumi’s face.

            At forty, he started to forget exactly what Nezumi’s voice sounded like.

            At fifty, he couldn’t remember if Nezumi’s eyes were closer to steel or silver.

            Shion still wasn’t worried about being cured. Love was not an illness, he knew this no matter what they said.

            But this, the forgetting, it was a disease, and Shion was scared as hell that he was getting sick, and they’d never let him take his medicine behind these damn bars.

            When he heard Nezumi’s name, Shion dropped the comb he used to carve his marks and pressed his body against the bars, staring out into the dark hallway.

            “ – Nezumi’s at it again. Warden’s showing interest now.”

            “Warden never shows interest.”

            It was two guards. Shion could tell immediately, partly from the jangle of keys, but mostly from the way the voices didn’t sound hollowed out as if scraped by a knife.

            “That’s what I’m saying. _Now_ he’s showing interest. Because of this rodent stirring up trouble. He almost got out.”

            Shion’s breath caught in his throat.

            “He’s _almost_ gotten out three times already, hasn’t he? He’s just one of those, we get them all the time. They come in here all gung-ho, ready to save themselves and their lovers and break the system that’s been in place since before their sorry parents gave birth to their filthy selves. A few failed attempts and they’re put back in place like the rest of them. Give it a month, he’ll lose hope.”

            “It’s been two months.”

            The jangling keys stopped for a moment, then resumed. “He’s stronger than the others. No big deal. They’ll break him. They always do. And if Warden’s getting involved, he’ll never cook up trouble again.”

            Shion waited for their laughs to subside, but instead they just faded away, along with the jangling of the keys. The guards had left, and Shion let the breath he’d been holding fall limply from his lips.

            “I’m waiting, Nezumi,” he whispered, to the bars that were his only friends. “I’m waiting.”

 

“Do you know why you’re here?” the loud voice commanded, like it always did.

            The weekly assemblies were mandatory, and usually Shion used them to sleep – the chairs in the auditorium were much softer than his mattress – but Shion had been keeping an ear out since the week before, desperate to hear more news of Nezumi.

            “Because you’re _sick._ Lovesick. Isolation is the only cure.”

            Every word spoken came as a chorus, as all the inmates spoke along with the projected voice. They all knew the script. They all knew of their goddamn disease.

            “Your filthy _feelings_ put the entire population in danger. You prioritize your own need to act on your disease, and the rest of us eat less, suffer more. It’s selfish, but it’s not your fault. We’re here to cure you.”

            Shion wished he were sleeping. He tilted his head towards the door, trying to hear the conversation of two guards, but the chorus of the assembly was too loud.

            “The problem is, there is no cure!” Even the routine dry laugh was echoed by each inmate. “Even those with asexual or homosexual desires or physical inabilities to reproduce cannot be trusted to be among the rest of civilization. This disease is contagious, and we cannot let it spread. Every single one of you is a danger to society. Do not forget that.”

            They were dismissed back to their cells, each inmate escorted by a guard. Shion did not bother craning his neck to look for Nezumi, as he had the first three assemblies. Apprehended couples were separated between the two wings of the jail, never allowed in the same room.

            Never allowed near each other. Never, never, never…

            Shion forgot to whisper Nezumi’s name that night.

 

Two-hundred forty-eight marks on the wall.

            Shion had heard Nezumi’s name mentioned by the guards four more times since the first. At mark one-hundred ninety-one, they stopped mentioning him. Shion told himself this was a good thing. Nezumi was simply luring them into a false sense of security, especially after Shion had heard the warden did something to him that landed him in the hospital for a week.

            Shion hoped these were just prison rumors, stories fabricated by the guards to occupy themselves over a cup of coffee. But he’d learned hope was a flimsy thing.

            Shion himself had been busy, though his work was more low-key, nothing to be brought to the attention of the guards. He’d gathered enough information on the security system of the prison to know it was nearly unbreakable, and he’d documented and memorized the hours and break times of every guard in his wing.

            He was not yet sure how this information could be used to get out, but until he thought of further action, Shion planned to keep collecting information as quietly as he could.

            It seemed pointless, but most things did, these days.

            “Now that Nezumi can walk again – ”

            Shion’s head snapped up, and he got up from his cot and crept to the bars, holding them tightly and squinting out at the two patrol guards.

            “ – Warden is trying to double his security again, but I think it’s pointless. The man is broken. We’re working fucking overtime for nothing.”

            “Walking again? Thought they snapped his legs.”

            Shion clenched the bars, pressing his forehead against them until it hurt.

            “Nah, just fractured them. Enough to dissuade the guy, but not enough to warrant an investigation on the prison.”

            “I’d just break them, the rodent’s more trouble than he’s worth. An investigation is nothing to what a breakout will be.”

            “He won’t breakout, like I said, the guy’s broken. Hasn’t done anything but mumble things the last few days. Gone fucking crazy, probably from the meds.”

            “Can’t be. I heard they wouldn’t give him pain meds.”

            “Well, that’s it then. The pain drove him nuts. Warden went in there himself to twist the guy’s legs a few more times, just to make sure he got the message across.”

            The guards laughed again, and Shion grit his teeth together, willing himself not to shout.

            “Think he’ll get the psych ward?”

            “Don’t know, but the last thing I heard, he was trying to eat his own hair.”

            “Fucking sick, these people are.”

            “You don’t have to convince me.”

            Shion felt himself slide down the bars as the guards’ conversation switched to complaints about one of their mother-in-laws. He breathed deeply, trying to go over the schedules of the guards in his head to stop himself from thinking of what he’d just heard.

            _Jones, ten to eight, breaks at one and six._

_Chee, seven to five, breaks at ten and two –_

_‘The pain drove him nuts – ’_

_No! Breaks at ten and_ three _, not two._

_Krishnakan, twelve to ten, breaks at three and –_

_‘…the psych ward…’_

_–  three and –_

_‘…last thing I heard, he was trying to eat his own hair – ’_

_– breaks at three and eight!_

            Shion pulled at his hair. He couldn’t think, he couldn’t concentrate, he couldn’t focus on anything but the thought of Nezumi going crazy, losing hope, breaking the promise he’d made two-hundred forty-eight days ago.

            “Reunion will come, remember, Nezumi? _Reunion will come.”_

            “You keep telling yourself that,” came a raspy voice from the cell next door, followed by a laugh that sounded painful.

            Shion closed his eyes. The voice next door might be broken, and they may have even gotten to Nezumi, but Shion wouldn’t let himself be broken, and he sure as hell wouldn’t let them break Nezumi’s promise.

 

“Hey, snake boy! Happy one-year anniversary! Hey – What the fuck have you done to the wall? Dammit, you’re nearly as fucking crazy as that other freak, aren’t you?”

            Shion dragged himself off the floor and stumbled to the bars. “Nezumi…. Do you know how Nezumi is?” he demanded, pushing his face against the bars.

            The guard who’d captured them a year ago stopped before his cell and smirked in amusement. His smirk was nothing like Nezumi’s. It was cold, rotten.

            “Went nuts, didn’t he? It was quite a show, tried to kill himself. Guards found him writhing on the floor, having swallowed some weird shit rats brought through his bars. Would have left him to die, but the paperwork is a bitch. He’s at psych ward now.”

            Shion pressed himself so hard into the bars he was sure his face would be imprinted for days. “R-Rats?”

            “Yeah, a new one, isn’t it? Never had a guy eat rat shit before, guess your guy is something special. The rats loved his cell, probably sniffed him out as one of their own foul kind. There was something toxic in the shit he stuffed down his throat, he was flailing and foaming on the floor. Crazy as fuck, that one.”

            Shion dared not say anything else. He waited until the guard had cackled off, then dove to his cot and pulled the blanket over his head.

            “We got a crier,” yelled an inmate a few cells down.

            “Leave ‘im, it’s his year anniversary,” came the raspy voice from next door.

            “Ahh,” the other inmates chorused knowingly.

            Let them think he was crying. Shion didn’t care, as long as they didn’t know, as long as no one knew. Shion couldn’t help himself from laughing into his pillow, from gasping with his relief.

            Nezumi was keeping his promise.

 

The week passed unbearably, but Shion was used to that.

            He’d just carved mark three-hundred seventy-three when the dull blares of the alarm went off, and the guard shouted to be heard above it.

            “All inmates on the floor! _On the floor!_ ”

            Shion did as he was told, but lifted his head, peeking out of his bars and trying to see what was going on by the blinking lights. Another guard talking into a walkie-talkie joined the one shouting at the inmates.

            “What’s going on?” the first asked, taking a break from his shouting and instead rapping his metal rod against the bars of the cells he passed.

            “Fuck.”

            _“What?”_

            “That was Warden. Code black.”

            _“Fuck._ Wait – don’t tell me. It couldn’t be…the _rat_?”

            Shion couldn’t breathe. He crossed his fingers and bit his lip.

            “Insanity was a fucking act. The entire time, an _act._ The fucker’s gone. Warden’s on a rampage. Sent me to get bait.”

            “Bait?”

            “That’s the thing with these diseased. They don’t think straight, they’re not rational. Love blinds them, gives them a weakness. All we gotta do is put some cheese in a trap.”

            “I don’t get it.”

            Suddenly, the voices were right outside Shion’s cell, and his bars rattled with the metal rod.

            “Snake boy, let’s go. We’ve got a rat to catch.”

 

“You say anything off-script, and we slit your throat right along that funky scar, got it?”

            Shion nodded, and they tore off the gag and placed a phone against his ear.

            “Shion?”

            “Nezumi,” Shion breathed, feeling dizzy. He hadn’t heard that voice in a year. He hadn’t been sure he would ever hear it again.

            “Shion – Shion, are you okay? One of the mice brought me a phone number, and the message said to call because you’d been, because they’d – Shit, Shion…”

            “I’m okay, Nezumi, I’m fine, I – Ow!” Shion cringed as a guard caught him in the gut with his rod.

            He was really starting to hate those rods.

            “Shion! Dammit, you were supposed to just wait, I was going to get you. What did you do?”

            “Nothing! They – _Ow!_ Shit, okay, I’m on it! Nezumi, I have to tell you something. They’re here, the officers, the warden, and they want me to give you a message.”

            “Shion, stop talking and listen to me. All you need to do is stay alive, and I will get you. Got that?”

            “Snake boy, hurry it up, don’t waste all my battery,” the guard snapped, and Shion cringed as he clenched the metal rod threateningly.

            Shion closed his eyes and rehashed the script quickly. “Nezumi, they’ve got me at the back entrance of the psych ward. You need to be here in the next twenty-four hours, or they’ll – ” Shion gulped, shaking his head, wishing Nezumi would be able to see past his lies through the phone the way he always could in person, “ – or they’ll kill me.”

            “I’ll be there, I promise.” Nezumi’s voice was clipped, succinct.

            Shion bit his lip. “Wait, Nezumi, don’t – ”

            “That’s all, snake boy, you’re done now.” The guard snapped the phone from his hands and pressed the off button.

            Shion glared at his smug face.

            “Oh, don’t look so angry. We’re just helping the poor guy. He’s in pain, can’t you see that? The disease has messed him up, and dealing with it is distressing. Killing him is a kindness.”

            Shion grit his teeth and tried to pull his wrists from the binds.

            “That’s pointless, relax, kid. All that’s left for you to do is wait. He’ll come for you.”

            This, Shion knew. Nezumi would come, he would come to the back entrance of the psych ward as he’d promised.

            But Shion was not at the back entrance of the psych ward. He was chained in the warden’s office, waiting to hear news by walkie-talkie from the officers surrounding the back entrance of the psych ward confirming that they’d trapped the rat, that the rat was shot, that the rat was dead.

*


	3. Chapter 3

Nezumi closed the blinds while Shion deadlocked the door with the lock they hid under the mattress, checking it twice just to make sure.

            All of the lights and lamps were turned off. The kettle that whistled was put on the stove to drown out any noise that might slip through the crack under the door, which Shion pressed a towel against, just in case.

            Only then, did he let Nezumi pull him to his body. At first, Nezumi just held him, and Shion buried his face deep into Nezumi’s chest, breathing in his warmth. Nezumi’s long fingers weaved through his hair, and Shion pulled back – though his hands still clenched the hem of Nezumi’s shirt in tight fists – letting Nezumi tilt his chin up.

            Nezumi kissed him as though it would be their last kiss. He always did, and it scared the shit out of Shion, more than the threats outside their covered windows ever could.

            But then – he gripped Nezumi’s shirt as though the man were to be pulled away from him at any moment, so he supposed he couldn’t blame Nezumi.

            It was only instinct, by which they acted. It was only fear, that drove them to such lengths.

            Nezumi’s lips were always soft at first, melting Shion’s mouth open and slowly breaking him apart. Shion would fall into Nezumi, unable to hold himself up, and Nezumi would catch him, kiss him more and more deeply until his lips were rough and Shion’s lips were just as urgent. Shion remembered when he’d wondered how Nezumi’s mouth would feel against his – he thought it’d be warm like steam from a mug of tea, but it was hot and scorched his skin. There was no time to breathe, no time to let their skin part for a second. They pressed against each other, pushing each other’s bodies as if they had been caught, as if they were pushing each other away.

            It was strange, how they only seemed to get closer, with hands that grasped like desperate claws.

            More often than not, they made each other bleed. Not from teeth, but fingernails, gripped too tightly on the other’s skin. But even as they lay naked and breathless on each other, their hands could not afford to relax. To let go of the other was to risk him being taken away again.

            Shion could not take that risk. Even though it killed him that they were even touching. He ought to let Nezumi go, he should let him run, leave, get as far away from Shion as he could.

            But Shion was too selfish for this. Nezumi may have had a better chance of staying on the run if he were alone, but _goddammit he had promised,_ so Shion refused to let him go.

            Shion was glad for the darkness of the dead of night – the only time they chanced such an act. He was glad for the blinds and every light that was turned off. He was glad he didn’t have to see Nezumi, for then surely he would not be able to control himself during the day, knowing what the man looked like. This way, he could keep his urges inside as he counted down the minutes of each and every day until he got to touch Nezumi again.

            He was also relieved that he never had to see the scar that tore through Nezumi’s shoulder, jagged and rough where Shion had tried to stitch the man back together. He felt it gingerly with only his fingertips, and this was enough to make him see red, to lose himself for a few seconds until Nezumi brought him back with soft whispers in the shell of his ear, promising that it was over, that he was okay.

            But it wasn’t over, and they weren’t okay. Maybe for a few minutes in the dead of night when they could pretend they were free, but could a few minutes be enough forever?

            Shion closed his eyes and refused to let himself entertain the doubt. They had no other choice. This was their only option.

 

“I couldn’t get a newspaper,” Nezumi said, bursting through the door.

            Shion was furious.

            “You’re late – ”

            “Shion, calm down – ”

            _“You’re late – ”_

            “You’re shaking, Shion, come on, I’m back now – ”

            “Dammit, Nezumi! I thought you were – ” Shion shook his head, shoving Nezumi away from him.

            Nezumi was quiet for a moment. “I’m sorry. I thought someone recognized me, and I had to get back a different way. But I’m back now. I’m fine, okay?”

            Shion pressed his palms against his eyes. He tried to regulate his breathing. He tried not to lose it.

            “Shion?” Nezumi sighed, and Shion flinched at the slam. He let his hands fall from his face, and saw that Nezumi’s fist had pounded the wall. “Dammit, you can’t keep freaking out. _We’re fine.”_

            Shion said nothing for a while, until Nezumi kicked off his boots and made for the bathroom door. “Is it worth it?”

            Nezumi turned. “What?”

            “Is it worth it?” Shion asked, allowing his voice to venture above a whisper this time.

            “What are you talking about?”

            Shion shook his head, falling against the wall. “I can’t do this any more,” he breathed.

            Nezumi took a step towards him, his expression hardening. “Shion – ”

            “Nezumi, _what are we doing?”_

            “We’re being together, Shion. That’s what we’re doing. You know what we’re doing, we’re winning, we’re beating them – ”

            “This – ” Shion shouted, spreading his hands, “ – isn’t together! This is tip-toeing around each other until it’s fucking two in the morning, and even then, that’s not together, Nezumi. That’s a quick fuck and then back to pretending that _we_ don’t exist. We’re not winning, Nezumi. We’re losing, we’re on the run and we’re losing – ”

            “You can’t be fucking serious,” Nezumi muttered angrily, shaking his head. “What do you want, Shion? You want to walk around holding hands? You want to wear my jacket in the market? You want to announce our engagement in the fucking newspaper?”

            “I want to stop being scared, Nezumi! I want to live in a house with you without having to board up the windows! I want to be able to look at you without fearing for my life, for your life! I want to be _with_ you without hating myself for putting you in danger!”

            “Shion, stop shouting, the guards – ”

            “The guards are _swarming_ _all over the place._ We’re going to get caught, and they’re not going to let you get away this time.”

            “We’re not going to get caught. As long as we keep doing what we’ve been doing. Now, I have to get in the bathroom before – ”

            “We’re going to get caught. Those guards are here for _us._ They’re everywhere for _us._ There are posters all over, our faces are all over and there’s just no way we can hide for much longer. They’re going to check the house soon – ”

            “If you don’t feel safe here, we’ll just move – ”

            “Move _where?”_

            “Shion! Stop shouting, dammit, they’re going to hear. Open the blinds, will you, I’m going to the bathroom – ”

            “Why are we even living in the same house if we have to spend the entire day in separate rooms?” Shion yelled. He couldn’t lower his voice, he was trying, but he just couldn’t. They would hear, and they would find them, and they would kill them this time.

            “You know why,” Nezumi snapped. “Now open the blinds, we don’t need them coming in here.” Before Shion could reply, Nezumi stomped into the bathroom and slammed the door quietly behind him.

            That’s what they did – quiet slamming, whispered shouting, silent burning. Because people didn’t slam the door or shout if they lived by themselves. And that was what Shion had to pretend.

            Regulations meant all windows had to be clear and all doors unlocked. Houses could be checked at any sign of suspicion. Passing guards peered into windows a few times an hour, welcomed themselves into random houses a few times a week.

            Nezumi spent every day in a different room than Shion – sometimes the bathroom, sometimes the kitchen – hiding from prying eyes in their windows, hoping the guards would be too lazy to check the entire house. It was just like jail, but for a few minutes every night when Shion and Nezumi allowed themselves to be together before scampering off into their separate rooms again.

            Shion felt himself slowly unraveling, but there was nothing else they could do.

 

They could not make money, so they stole.

            Shion hated this, and refused to be involved until he actually fainted from not eating. After that day, he only ate the bare minimum to keep himself alive, and he never did the actual stealing.

            The day of the argument, however, they agreed through notes slid underneath the bathroom door that Shion needed to get the food for their daily meal. Nezumi might have been seen that morning trying to get a newspaper, and there was no need to tempt suspicion.

            _Just do it and get back quickly,_ read Nezumi’s last note, when Shion asked him for tips.

            Shion burned the note on the stove with the others and grabbed his shoes. He glanced at a mirror before leaving, making sure the powder he caked his face with still hid his scar, and the soot he rubbed onto his hair covered it well enough.

            They’d contemplated cutting it off, but decided Shion’s eyes – the one thing they couldn’t disguise – would stand out too much.

            Stealing was easier than he’d thought. He was shaking and felt like throwing up – but that was a new normal. Snatching a loaf of bread and two apples and stuffing them in his coat when the shopkeepers were distracted – that could easily become normal as well.

            He passed signs with his face, headlined with DISEASED, CRIMINAL, REWARD.

            Shion grinned at them dryly, his cheeks hurting from pulling up in such a way that they hadn’t for so long. Now, he really was a criminal.

            And he damn well felt diseased.

 

He had the kind of nightmares, after Nezumi left the bed every night, that he could tell were nightmares while he was in them, yet they scared him breathless nonetheless.

            He probably shouldn’t call them nightmares so much as flashbacks. All of the same night, a few months before…

_Shion was sitting in the warden’s office, waiting for the cold voices to declare the end over the walkie-talkie on the desk in front of him. Twenty-three hours had passed since he’d sent Nezumi to his death. Shion already felt numb, as if they’d already confirmed Nezumi’s still pulse._

_But the call never came in through the walkie-talkie. Instead, the guard’s phone rang the moment the clock announced twenty-four hours had passed._

_“Where is he really?” Nezumi’s voice asked, as the guard answered the phone on speaker and placed it next to the walkie-talkie._

_“Dead, soon. You had twenty-four hours.”_

_“If you kill him, you’ll never find me.”_

_Shion still felt numb. His body could hardly register that this was Nezumi’s voice, that he was somehow still alive, that there was still hope._

_“What if we tortured him?” Perhaps for emphasis, or just to vent frustration at the failed plan, another guard struck Shion in the gut with his metal rod. Shion made no noise, and a whisper caressed his ear._

“Scream, you little shit.”

_Shion was hit again, and this time he yelled out._

_“Where is he?” The voice through the phone was harder now._

_“I don’t think you understand how a hostage situation works. You don’t get to make the demands, Nezumi. You’re right – we won’t kill your little boyfriend. But we will break him. We will tear him apart slowly, over this same phone so you can hear his every scream. So I suggest you start cooperating.”_

_There was no hesitation – “What do you want?”_

_“Do as you were told. Go to the back entrance of the psych ward.”_

_“I’m not walking into death with open arms, thanks.”_

_The guards all chuckled. Shion tried to memorize every chord of Nezumi’s voice._

_“Again, you don’t have a choice.”_

_This time, Shion screamed without needing to be prompted by a scaly whisper. He was glad his arms were tied, and he could not run his hands over his abdomen to feel the way his ribs had no doubt splintered at another blow from the rod._

_“Whatever I do, you’re going to kill both of us,” Nezumi said, sounding strained. Shion could imagine his jaw clenched as he spoke._

_“Of course. But in Option A, there’s a lot less screaming. I wouldn’t choose Option B, Nezumi.”_

_There was a long pause, and Shion glanced back at the walkie-talkie, until –“What about Option C?”_

_Nezumi had traced the call, and his knife was quicker than the warden and guards’ clumsy fingers on guns still lingering in their holsters. They might have made it out unscratched, if Nezumi hadn’t missed a guard while he was asking Shion if he was okay._

_The gunshot was quieter than Shion had expected, but Nezumi’s body slumping over his was heavier than he’d dreamed of back when he fantasized of Nezumi’s body on top of his own._

_But this wasn’t a fantasy. It was reality and it was bleeding and it was dying right there in his arms –_

_Shion grabbed a gun from a guard Nezumi had stabbed beside him and shot at the man Nezumi had missed. His body fell, and Shion felt nothing but satisfaction._

_“Shion…_ No _._ ”

_Getting out was easy, with a gun. They fell like dominoes, all Shion had to do was pull a trigger. Nezumi was draped over his shoulders, but unlike minutes before, it now felt as though the limp body weighed nothing at all._

_Once out of the building, Shion hid along the side bushes, where he knew, from gathering data for three-hundred seventy-three days, no cameras were pointed. He set Nezumi down and bandaged his paling body with his shirt._

_The bullet had burst clean through his shoulder._

_“You’ll be fine,” Shion told him, but Nezumi’s eyes had closed, and if he’d heard Shion, he probably wouldn’t have believed him anyway. Shion hardly believe himself._

            _Shion kept to areas where he knew their cameras could not see, running with Nezumi from place to place until he knew they were out of the cameras’ range altogether. There were still guards to dodge, and Shion developed a fear of the light, the threat of it shining from flashlights that searched them out, closer and closer and closer…_

            Even in his flashbacks, Shion never quite remembered how he got them out alive.

            The worst part of the nightmares was waking up alone, and it being a few seconds before Shion remembered that Nezumi had not died slung over his shoulders, his last breath weak and cold in Shion’s ear.

            No – _the worst part_ was forgetting that Nezumi had indeed kept his promise, because then he would have to remember all over again that this was it – this was together, this was reunited, this life of separation and stolen moments and fear and nightmares alone was the most they could have.

 

The next morning, Nezumi came home with the newspaper and a box.

            “Anything?”

            “No,” Nezumi replied, throwing the newspaper dismissively on the bed for Shion to look at himself, though with Nezumi’s reply, he had no need to. There was only one bit of news they needed.

            “What’s that?”

            “Hair dye. For you. Brown. The soot keeps rubbing off.” Nezumi glanced at him, his expression hard, almost angry. He placed the box on the counter, glanced once out the windows, and lifted a hand to touch Shion’s hair, just briefly, before jerking his hand into his pocket. “Make sure you get the roots,” he said quietly before locking himself into the bathroom.

            Shion picked up the box, his eyes skimming the directions on the back. He didn’t know how Nezumi had found it, and he didn’t much care. He didn’t bother taking a last glance at the mirror before taking the box to the kitchen sink and dying his white hair away.

            That night, when Shion reached up in the dark to knot his fingers into Nezumi’s hair – to comfort himself, somehow, with something he could recognize – he found himself unable to. Short bristles pricked his fingertips instead.

            “Wha – ?”

            “Cropped it,” Nezumi muttered, only lifting his lips from Shion’s skin for a brief moment.

            Shion wondered if he’d recognize Nezumi in the morning, when he would see him again for just a few brief moments.

            He wondered if he’d ever recognize the man again.

 

“Shion!”

            Shion jumped as Nezumi tumbled through the door, brandishing the newspaper.

            It was months after Nezumi had cut his hair, and his disheveled locks had grown into a shaggy cut that scattered wildly about his face, which was contorted strangely into an expression Shion thought seemed vaguely familiar.

            _Oh, a smile,_ Shion realized, after a moment of contemplation, _that’s what Nezumi looks like when he’s happy –_

“Read it, Shion, read it – ”

            Nezumi was pushing the paper into Shion, who stepped back instinctively.

            “Nezumi, stop shouting,” he mumbled, glancing out the windows.

            “It doesn’t matter anymore. The letters you sent, and that petition – they weren’t ignoring them at all, _look._ ”

            Shion stared at Nezumi for a second, scared to hope, and warily took the newspaper, unfolding it and skimming the headline.

            _LOVERS LOVE NEW LOVE LAW_

            “What? What does this – ?”

            “Keep reading,” Nezumi urged, hovering closer to Shion than he’d allowed himself to in daylight for months.

            _After great deliberation, a newly elected liberal legislature, and a collection of cogent and highly-compelling anonymous letters [that have just been publically revealed and can be found on page B2], the Love Law instated nearly twenty-five years ago has been amended. Previously declaring love as an “illness,” by which the only cure was believed to be isolation and separation from civilization, the redrafted Love Law states the following:_

_Any individuals afflicted with or suspected of affliction with the noted disease “Love” – also commonly known as Affection, Desire, Lust, etc. – are hereby announced free citizens. The cureless illness is now recognized by the scientific community as a chemical trigger in the brain that has no contagious properties. All diseased individuals may inhabit any public or private area by their free will from the date marked by this petition._

_All aforementioned individuals suffering from said disease are sentenced to undergo strict therapy sessions. This is not a cure, which has still been declared as unfound – therapy is to reduce sexual and lustful desires so that afflicted individuals may coexist in a rational manner amongst those not infected…_

_The redrafted Love Law goes on to outline that sexual intercourse between two fertile individuals of different sexes is still strictly prohibited, but legislature has hinted that increased research is being put into contraceptive methods, and a more permanent Love Law is being drafted at this moment to account for a revocation of the ban on intercourse._

_Jailed lovers were freed this morning at approximately seven o’ clock, promptly following the announcement of the new Love Law, and lovers are returning to each other’s arms in touching displays. [Interviews featuring reunited couples can be found on page B3.]_

_The couple most people are asking about is the one that escaped six months and three days ago. The notorious Nezumi and Shion, both apprehended and imprisoned for their disease for just over a year, had been labeled wanted fugitives upon their joint-breakout half a year ago. It is rumored that these two young men are behind the indisputable letters that prompted for this change in regulation, but confirmation is yet to be received._

_One thing is for sure – Nezumi and Shion have been an inspiration to the fighting spirit of the lovesick, and both those in love and those free from disease await their reappearance into society now that these lovebirds – turned jailbirds – can finally fly free._

Shion felt the newspaper drop from his hands. He stared as the paper curled by his feet.

            “I know, the ‘fly free’ part was a bit too much for me, too. All considered though, even with the hackneyed ending, that’s definitely a top ten ranking newspaper article for me. Top five, even.”

            Shion looked up at Nezumi, who was grinning at him, as if it was easy, even after so long.

            “You did it, Shion,” he said gently, lifting a hand and brushing his fingers along Shion’s cheek. Shion saw, as he pulled away, that Nezumi had wiped off the powder that hid his scar. “It’s okay, now. We don’t have to hide anymore.”

            “But – it doesn’t make sense – ”

            “What doesn’t make sense?”

            Shion shook his head, trying to put his worry into words. “I’ve hid how I felt for you since I met you. I don’t know how not to hide it.”

            “It’s easy,” Nezumi said, his grin softening. “I’ll show you.”

            When he kissed Shion, for the first time it wasn’t as if it would be their last. It was as if it was a first kiss, soft and warm like Shion used to dream of.

            But Shion pulled away. This kiss wasn’t supposed to exist outside of his dreams. This was the kiss he had locked away, he had forced himself to stop thinking about.

            “Shion?”

            “I feel like we’re doing something wrong. Like we’re not supposed to do this.”

            Nezumi’s eyes narrowed slightly. “They told us love was a curse.”

            Shion couldn’t meet the grey eyes, and stared at the paper on the floor.

            “But I never saw it like that. Not when I had to hide it from everyone – including you. Not when they caught us. Not when we were locked up for three-hundred seventy-three days. Not when we were tortured. Not when we had to pretend it didn’t exist in this damn house. It was never a curse, not to me.”

            Shion looked up.

            “I understand that all of this shit they put us through could have convinced anyone that love is a curse. That it’s wrong, that it’s _sick_.”

            “Nezumi – ”

            “But it hasn’t convinced me. And I know it hasn’t convinced you, because the person I’ve got this damn ‘disease’ for would never believe in that bullshit. Am I right?”

            Shion stared up at the man who’d taken away his peaceful life and replaced it with one of jail time, torture, thievery, fear, and nightmares. A cursed life, by every definition of the word.

            “Yes,” Shion whispered, stepping forward and falling against Nezumi, who wrapped his arms around him, pulling Shion closer. “You’re right.”

            Maybe the love Shion experienced was a curse by definition, but Shion, for one, was done with the way authorities decided to define things – hell, even Nezumi’s book system made more sense than the government’s laws.

            No, the warmth of Nezumi’s arms around him could not be a curse any more than a mug of tea cupped in shaking hands could be anything but comforting.

            “Nezumi?”

            “Hmm?” Nezumi breathed into his hair.

            “I love you,” Shion whispered, finally speaking the words aloud, letting them out of the box deep in his chest where they’d been locked for far too long.

            Nezumi’s laugh made Shion wonder how he’d survived so long without hearing it. “About time you admitted it, Your Majesty.”

 

THE END


End file.
